The Liberation of a Human Being
by MusicalChick13
Summary: She was not a prize to be won or an object to be fought over. She was a human being. And deserved to be treated like one. But until a certain mad man with a box and his companion show up, Kate never imagined that she could be happy.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello! I'm kind of obsessed with Shakespeare and recently saw ****_Taming of the Shrew_**** for the first time. I tried to enjoy it for what it was and accept that the rather anti-feminist message was a product of the time period in which the play was written, as well as the fact that as these types of stories go, it was kinder to the woman than most. I really did. But I just couldn't ignore the blatant sexism. Then I got this idea, which wouldn't leave my brain alone. So, this is my way of fixing things so I don't get a bad taste in my mouth every time someone mentions this play.**

**Also, although I would love to write this in Old English, I don't trust myself not to completely butcher the language, so this will be in non-Shakespearean vernacular.**

**Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, discussion of marital rape license, slightly crack-y premise, and divergence from Shakespearean canon.**

**The Liberation of a Human Being-Prologue**

Outside a humble house in Padua, a young woman by the name of Kate Minola sits, silently contemplating her life after seeing off the last of the evening's banquet guests.

She supposed it could be worse. She wasn't completely sure how, but she was sure that, somehow, it could.

She looks up for the briefest of seconds and sees her husband looking down on her appraisingly from an upper window. They make eye contact and he smiles ever-so-slightly before turning away and retreating back into the interior of her home.

He was obviously so proud of himself, having "tamed" the untamable woman.

He really had no idea, did he?

She had known, of course, that the whole business of fetching wives was some sort of bet from the start. What would the odds have been for Lucentio _and_ Hortensio to call their wives to them within seconds of each other without specifying what they wanted? So she obediently goes outside, as per the request of her husband, the man who claims to have a monopoly on her heart, playing the part she has been playing for the past few months in order to throw off suspicion. She makes up some speech about the necessity of submitting to one's romantic partner and shocks the entire party gathered outside her home.

Little did any of them know.

She wasn't an animal to be broken in or shown off as a prize catch. She was a woman. A human being. And she wasn't about to go down without a fight.

Ever since she figured out exactly what her so-called "husband" was doing, she had been formulating a plan to make sure he didn't succeed. This plan involved making him think that, for a time, he'd won-that he'd achieved what he set out to do and made a proper woman out of her. Using his convictions that she was no longer a threat, she would, under guise of obediently filling the role she was expected to fill, slowly undermine him by showing him just how hellish having a completely devoted wife could be. She would give him a taste of his own disgusting medicine.

She would make him regret ever having tried to change her in the first place.

It would likely be a long and arduous task, and it would involve acting like the demure women she had sworn to hate for the rest of eternity, but she felt she had a reasonable chance of succeeding. After all, she was far from stupid. People had always seemed to forget that about her.

She decides to go back inside and up to the room she is sharing with her husband, the sky now too dark for her to ruminate on anything other than the possibility of sleep. She fingers the money she and her husband had won earlier in the evening before gingerly folding it into the pocket of her spouse's jacket, which is lying in the corner.

As she climbs into bed, she takes one look at his sleeping form and feels several consecutive waves of nausea wash over her as she remembers who this man is and what he's done to her. Making a point to lay as close to the edge of the bed as possible, she closes her eyes and drifts off into a fitful, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It begins the next day. The whole bet thing at the banquet the night before only served to remind her how disgusting the whole of the male population was and confirm her need for swift action.

In what is supposed to pass for an act of spontaneous devotion (complete with a few bashful bats of her eyelids that are convincing enough to almost make her sick), she offers to do the shopping and fix supper, claiming she wants to do something for her husband that comes completely from her. Being the arrogant ass that he is, he accepts this and readily agrees. He thinks he's broken her, so he trusts everything she says and does.

_Blind idiots really __**are **__the most dangerous kind of people, aren't they? _She thinks sardonically. Sadly, few people other than her are clever enough to merit any other kind of description.

So while Petruchio is out riding his horse, she prepares supper. She picks up some chiles at the market and slathers a few slabs of beef in them. (He really was a weakling when it came to spicy food.) She fixes rice pudding and pours in almost half a bag of sugar. (When she takes an experimental taste, it's so sickly sweet it actually makes her gag.) And she spikes his tea with salt (after all, she can always claim she got it mixed up with the sugar-the textures are _so_ very similar).

Of course, her husband is hardly a stupid man and will surely see that something is wrong with, well, everything. However, she has an uncanny ability to act innocent and naïve. She can chalk up her "mistakes" to her supposed womanly stupidity. Plus, knowing him, he'll be too prideful to admit he can't handle a little pungent food. Kate, as always, will see right through his attempts to hide his discomfort and ask him what, exactly, is wrong, prompting what is likely to be an irritable response. This will provide a perfect excuse to have an embarrassing emotional breakdown about how she isn't good enough for him. The resulting scene will likely make her unemotional husband so uncomfortable that he won't know how to react. This emotional frenzy, coupled with her insistence that this was all done out of love for him (and the dreadful meal) will serve to plant the first seed of doubt in his mind about the desirability of a doting, submissive wife. And if she's lucky, she'll be able to convince him to let her keep trying (securing opportunities for similar culinary disasters in the future) until she manages to get the hang of cooking. All, of course, under the guise of becoming a better, more "proper" wife for her beloved husband.

She inhales the mix of cloying scents and can't help but think that it's high time she had a little fun on her terms.

* * *

She demurely sets his plate down in front of him and sits down on the opposite end of the table.

"I have to admit," he says, "it rather surprised me when you said you wanted to do this."

"I guess being around you just brings out the best in me," she replies with a smile so fake it almost hurts.

"Well, the servants certainly think you're God's gift to Earth, giving them the night off to do the cooking all by yourself."

_It's about time __**someone**__ appreciated me,_ she thinks bitterly.

She gently unfolds a cloth napkin and steals a glance at her husband to observe his reaction.

He takes a big forkful of the over-spiced beef and it takes everything in her power not to burst out laughing when his whole body jerks forward and his eyes widen in alarm. As soon as he's physically able, he swallows and reaches for his tea, which, being spiked with salt, causes him to start coughing while twisting his features into an almost comically displeased expression.

Kate musters up her best expression of concerned innocence. "Is something wrong?"

"What did you put in this?"

She throws him a naïve, puzzled look. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?"

"The tea and meat-they're very…strong."

"Oh, well, in Padua, we tend to spice up our food a bit more."

"To this extent?"

She pretends to take an experimental bite of her beef and feels an unpleasant burning sensation engulf her tongue. "Well, maybe I went a bit overboard."

The look he gives her spells out the words, "You think?" more clearly than if he had actually said them.

"Sorry. I didn't realize that you couldn't really handle spicy food. I should have asked you, first. I'll go clear the dishes and get the rice pudding. It's not like we can eat this now."

"No," he responds rather forcefully, "There's no reason to waste food."

_Ah, there's the pride she was counting on. Make even the slightest insult to his masculinity and you'll have him in the palm of your hand. All men really are the same, aren't they?_

She pours herself a pitcher of water to cool the burning in her mouth, smiling to herself as she watches him attempt to shovel the spicy meat into his mouth, his face betraying his discomfort more and more with each bite.

They eat in silence until they finish, at which point they stare at each other for several admittedly uncomfortable minutes.

"The tea tastes salty," he remarks at last.

Kate feigns a questioning expression, smacks herself in the face in a sixteenth century equivalent of a modern-day face-palm, and says, "I am such an idiot. I must have mixed up the salt and sugar. I knew I was going to make some sort of stupid mistake." _It really scared her sometimes how good of a liar she was._

"Well, if women were perfect, they'd hardly need husbands, now would they?" He punctuates this disgusting remark with what is obviously meant to be a charming smile.

_And that's why I'm doing all this in the first place_, Kate thinks. Before she can lose her composure, she sweeps away into the kitchen and brings out the rice pudding. Her husband's favorite. Well, with any luck, not anymore.

As she sits back down at her seat, Kate looks up in anticipation, and sees Petruchio take a large spoonful of the sugar-saturated dish before looking at it in alarm, pushing it away, and swallowing painfully.

"What did I do now?" she asks, a hint of despair in her voice. She banks on him hiding what he really thinks. After all, he's just finished successfully "taming" her (or, so he thinks), and, thus, won't want to do anything that could, in any way, jeopardize his recent victory. For at least the next few weeks, he will more than likely try to coddle and placate her to fully ensure her loyalty to him.

True to her expectations, he forces a smile and says, "Nothing. It's great."

"You know you can't lie to me."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"I may not be a genius, but I can read expressions well enough to know when someone's unhappy with something."

"No, honestly, dear, it's fine."

She glances at him suspiciously and takes a bit of her pudding. She throws down the spoon and buries her head in her hands. "It's awful, isn't it?"

"Well, I wouldn't really say 'awful…' "

Turning on the fake tears, she wails, "I'm just a hopeless failure!"

"Really, it's…fine…"

"No, it's NOT! I can't do _anything_! All I wanted was to do something nice for my husband to show him that he's the best thing in my life, and I go and screw it up! You don't deserve to be stuck with me! You're too good for me, and I don't deserve you!" She unleashes another wave of counterfeit waterworks and smugly notes that her husband looks like he'd really rather be anywhere else in the world than in this room with his wife having a (seemingly) complete mental breakdown.

Petruchio, completely out of his element, goes over to her to place a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"NO, DON'T TOUCH ME!" He springs back in alarm. "I can't live with myself right now. Just leave. Please."

He does as she requests and backs away slowly until he reaches the door to the sitting room. After he turns around, Kate gathers the dishes, mentally prepares herself for the next stage of the plan, and follows him.

"Do you hate me?"

He looks up at her with an expression that is equal parts surprise, discomfort, and irritability.

"…Um, no…"

She sighs. "Do you," she ventures timidly. "I mean, could I…try again…sometime?"

"Perhaps that wouldn't be such a good idea."

"But I'm your wife. I should…be able to do this for you. If I'm to be a proper woman, I should know how to cook."

"Just let the servants take care of it."

"No. Please just let me prove myself to you. I need to do this. It may take several disastrous meals for me to get there, but I can do it."

"Kate, I really don't think…"

"_Please!_" She chokes out painstakingly, adding a waver in her voice that suggests she's about to start crying again.

Obviously, her husband picks up on this, and, not equipped to deal with another emotional outburst, says "Okay! Okay! You can be in charge of dinner for the next few weeks."

She throws him her most dazzling smile, hugs him, and shrieks "Oh, thank you! THANK YOU!" before running off back to her room.

When she gets to the temporary safety of her bed, she muses that it's such a shame that she can't pass as a man. She would make a fantastic professional actor.

* * *

The next few weeks are some of the most fun she's had in a long time. Every night, she makes dinner, and every night, it tastes terrible (although slightly less so than the day before, in order to keep up the charade that she's only doing this to try to get better at cooking). She keeps finding new and inventive ways to make the evening meal as painful for him as possible. And she always ends the meal with rice pudding-her husband's favorite.

Part of her occasionally wonders if he really deserves this, and if treating him like this makes her any better than him.

Then, she remembers all of the horrible psychological and physical abuse this man has put her through and how cruel and arrogant all of the men in the world are, and she assures herself that she does, in fact, deserve her revenge.

Besides, the disgusted expressions he makes at her pitiful attempts at cooking will never stop being completely priceless.

By the time she finally produces a decent meal, Petruchio has sat through so many dinners that he can't really enjoy the rice pudding she places in front of him for dessert. Kate sees this in the way he eats it, detached and ambivalent. She can't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction pass through her body at the thought that he'll never be able to savor the taste of his favorite food again.

* * *

About a month later, her sister and Lucentio decide to throw a party. Kate and Petruchio are, of course, invited.

On the day she receives the letter requesting her and her husband's presence, Kate is wearing a modest red dress made out of a comfortable, gauzy fabric. She sits down and relishes the simple, yet luxurious feel of her clothing and begins pondering how best to use this dull, pointless social gathering to her advantage.

She mulls several ideas over in her head, but none of them strike her as particularly brilliant. She internally laments her need for a sudden push of creativity.

Fortunately, her husband chooses this moment to enter the room. She hands him the letter, assures him that she'll be happy to accompany him to what will certainly be a wonderful get-together (_gag_), and somehow manages not to flinch when her husband places a kiss on her forehead in response.

Petruchio pauses briefly in the doorway before he leaves the room completely, and says, "You know, I really do love the way you look in red."

_Ah,_ she thinks. _Exactly the push she needed. He likes me in red? Well, he'll get me in red._


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Miss, are you sure you want to buy this?" The dressmaker's shop assistant asks.

"Oh, yes. This is exactly what I'm looking for."

"Okay, then...Here you go..."

"Thank you ever so much." Kate hands him a fistful of money and folds her new purchase over her arm before waving good-bye and exiting the shop.

Thank goodness her husband had let her keep her half of the money they'd won in that stupid bet about whose wife was the most obedient. She had been saving it for a special occasion. And though she would have preferred to use it for something she would have actually _liked_ to have in her possession, like a book or a new pair of sensible shoes, the opportunity to humiliate her husband definitely fell under the heading of "special occasion."

She goes home and holds up the recently purchased dress to get a proper look at it. It is the most hideously gaudy thing she's ever seen. It has an oversized olive green bow wrapped around the middle with some sort of messy, netted black fringe at the bottom. The sleeves are so puffy she could easily fit a teacup in the space between her shoulders and the fabric of the dress, and the collar is humorously frilly, refusing to lie flat.

The dress is, of course, red.

She knows that wearing this dress to her sister's party in six days will make her the target of various insults, but the knowledge that her poor fashion sense will embarrass her husband means it's more than worthwhile.

Besides, when has she ever cared what anyone thought of her, anyway? Everyone else was an idiot, meaning their opinions hardly meant anything to her.

Of course, there was always the chance that her husband wouldn't actually _be_ embarrassed. He was, after all, the man who showed up late to his own wedding in strange clothes before punching the priest in the face.

But that was all for show. He was doing it to prove a point and exhibit his control over her. A man behaving indecorously was one thing. Allowing his _wife_ to do so of her _own_ _volition_ was another, especially after everyone had fallen under the impression that the wife in question was now tame and obedient.

Obviously, she had nothing to worry about.

A mischievous smile creeps onto her face, and she finds she, for the first time in her life, is looking forward to a party.

* * *

"Kate, are you almost ready?" her husband shouts.

"Coming!" she calls back through the door of the guest room in her sister's house where they're staying.

She quickly glances over herself. God, this dress really was awful. She couldn't wait to see the look on everyone's face when she showed up downstairs wearing it.

She opens the door, and her husband is, for once, completely speechless. And quite obviously not in a good way.

"Do you like it? I know how much you love red on me."

She sees her husband internally debating with himself. They had reached an appropriate length of time since her abrupt change in personality, so Petruchio was no longer afraid to say exactly what was on his mind, especially regarding her. And he certainly wasn't about to be publicly humiliated by the ridiculousness of his wife. However, the last thing he wanted was to start a fight or cause her to have another emotional breakdown moments before they were scheduled to appear at a social function.

His sense of self-preservation wins out after a few milliseconds of deliberating and he gives her a painful smile and nods slightly, offering his arm for her to take.

* * *

As they enter, Kate feels all of the eyes in the room on her. In a "what-is-this-strange-and-alien-creature-we-have-among-us" kind of way. She also senses a collective shift of focus to her husband. She looks around and sees the same question in everyone's eyes: "How can he possibly let his own wife go around looking like _that_?"

_Good. Everything is going exactly according to plan. He's obviously not the only schemer in this relationship_.

She confidently enters the room on her husband's arm, acting completely oblivious.

She is soon met by her mother. "Hello, dear! What an…interesting dress you have on!"

"Thank you," she beams.

"Well, I'll leave you two to say hello to everyone. I do hope you'll enjoy yourselves."

Kate turns to Petruchio. "I'm going to go find my sister. I'll see you in a bit." She makes a big show out of kissing his cheek before walking by as many people as she possibly can in an effort to get to Bianca.

She does the expected polite thing and hugs her sister once she finds her.

"Kate! Hi!" Bianca exclaims, returning the hug enthusiastically. _Obviously someone feels more comfortable around me now that she thinks I've had a personality transplant. _Bianca's husband,Lucentio is off somewhere talking to a couple of friends from university.

Bianca lowers her voice and says, "Kate, not that I'm not glad to see you, but what in goodness's name are you wearing?"

"A dress."

"Yes, but…where did you get it."

"The local shop I always go to."

"And you…like it?"

"Of course. It wouldn't make sense for me to be wearing it if I didn't, would it?"

"Well, it's…how shall I put this? Not…right…for you."

"How so? It can't be the color?"

"No, it's just very…busy, and…unstylish. I'm only telling you this because you're my sister and I care about you."

_Right. As if. No one cared about her. And her sister certainly never cared about anyone other than herself._

Kate gives her sister a venomous smile, allowing her old personality to creep in for a split second. "Well, if it's that bad, then you don't have to be seen with me this evening. In fact, I'll go find someone else to talk to. Right now." She turns on her heel, leaving Bianca stunned and incapable of saying anything.

When Bianca recovers, she merely shrugs and runs off to find her parents.

* * *

Kate sees her husband talking to Hortensio and carves a path through the ever-growing crowd of people toward the two men.

As she nears, she hears two of Lucentio's university friends gossiping.

"Can you believe he would allow his own wife out in something like that?"

"I know! I thought he was supposed to be an intelligent, dominant man. I mean, I know he willingly made a spectacle of himself during his own wedding, but I'd heard his odd behavior had toned down a bit once he got that crazy wife of his under control."

"I guess we all have bad days."

"If he keeps letting his wife get away with ridiculous improprieties like that, he's going to have a bad _life_." The two young men burst into laughter.

Kate supposed she should feel insulted, but she really didn't have the heart to do so.

When she reaches her husband, Hortensio gives her a thorough look and is obviously trying to hold back a chuckle at her expense.

"Hello, darling," she addresses her husband.

Petruchio looks like a startled young boy who has just been caught stealing a loaf of bread off from a market stall. "Hello. I was just about to go pour myself something to drink."

_Obviously trying to get rid of me, then. Time for phase two._

"I'll come with you! I'm absolutely parched."

"Er…What do you want? I can go get it for you."

"There's no need for that. Come on." She smiles brightly and tugs his hand, leaving him with no choice but to follow her if he wants to avoid causing a scene.

Hortensio eyes them with a look of bemusement, as Kate leads her husband to where the drinks are laid out.

As they embark on their quest for drinks, Kate sees her husband almost shrivel under the judgmental gazes of everyone gathered there. It's terrible, but she feels extremely proud of herself.

_Definitely worth the money_.

* * *

After they get their drinks, Petruchio somehow manages to ditch her by losing himself in the massive crowd. But with no trouble, she finds him again and obnoxiously moves to latch herself onto his arm.

Within a few seconds, she deduces that he and the man he's talking to are having a conversation about horses. She doesn't really know anything about the subject, but she interjects comments nonetheless.

"Well," the unknown man says after giving her an unpleasant glance in greeting, "A destrier is by far the better option. There is, after all, a reason why they are so sought after."

"Yes," her husband replies, "They are very strong. But the courser is light and fast."

"Wouldn't you rather have a strong horse with powerful hindquarters that allow it a great deal of control? Especially in a fight?"

"I have found that most conflict is decided by who manages to maneuver the fastest. Matters of the universe are decided by speed, not brute strength." Kate could almost swear he glances briefly over at her when he says this.

_Of course. He "won" his battle with me through his supposed quick intellect. Not by beating me into submission. Suppose I should be grateful for that. Well, if I didn't know better, I would be…_

"I couldn't agree more. Quickness is certainly the deciding factor in everything I can think of."

The other man narrows his eyes at her as if to say, "Who asked you?"

"Besides," her husband continues, "Coursers are far less costly and much more common."

"Cost is certainly an important thing to consider," Kate interjects again.

They continue this pattern for a little while, Kate vehemently agreeing with everything her husband says and obnoxiously breaking up the conversation with needless comments that add absolutely nothing to it.

At long last, the second man cedes Petruchio's point and retires elsewhere.

At which point Bianca announces that dinner is about to be served. Petruchio tries (and fails) to inconspicuously get swept away from his wife by the crowd to avoid sitting with her. Kate merely grasps his arm tighter.

"You don't have to bruise my arm," her husband mutters.

"I'm just trying to make sure I don't lose you." She makes sure to inject enough manufactured intonations of love into her voice to sound convincing. "I just want to sit with my husband."

He obviously doesn't have a viable response to this, so he merely stares straight ahead as they make their way toward the table to sit down.

* * *

After dinner is finished, Petruchio seeks out another acquaintance. Kate follows him like a lost puppy. It's obvious that he wishes to catch up and discuss male-specific topics without the presence of a third party, but Kate merely clings to her husband's arm, feigning obliviousness. She feels a rush of adrenaline when she feels his arm tense up in discomfort.

_Maybe it says something about me that my greatest joy in life is aggravating the man I'm supposed to love and obey with every fiber of my being. _But she doesn't have time, energy, or true motivation to examine her morals. This man deserves every bit of the shame, exasperation, and other related negative emotions she's managed to inspire in him.

As Petruchio makes his way through the crowd, making polite conversation and health inquiries to various friends he passes, Kate continues to stalk him, refusing to let him have his desired "guy talk" with his male colleagues. Each time he stops to chat, he looks increasingly uncomfortable and is met with more and more raised eyebrows from his peers.

After about the seventh time this happens, he decides he's had enough. He turns to Kate and states, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but could you perhaps let me alone for an hour or two?"

She throws him a hurt, offended look.

Not wanting to risk an emotional outburst, Petruchio hurriedly remarks, "No, no! It's nothing like that! I just…want to spend some time with just my friends. I mean, I never see them, and there are a lot of things I can't really talk about with you the same way I can talk about those things with them."

_At last, he's asking for space. Fine. If he wants space, he'll get space._

"Oh! I see! I'll go off and amuse myself somehow. You go enjoy yourself. I'll see you in a little while."

Relieved, Petruchio smiles at her and turns to search the crowd for God-knew-who.

_Don't get __**too**__ calm,_ Kate thinks, an impish grin gracing her less-than-delicate features.

* * *

Kate steals away to the small forest behind the house. Making her way toward the heart of the outcrop of emerald-leaved trees, she sits down on a stump thickly eclipsed by low-hanging branches. Then, she draws her knees up to her chest and waits.

He'll sure have a hell of a time finding her here. When it comes time to retire for the night, obviously her husband will attempt to retrieve her. When he looks everywhere and asks everyone where she could possibly be and still turns up unsuccessful, there will be, luck willing, a big fuss, a personal panic, and a sprinkling of somewhat internalized anger.

Because, after all, he _did_ ask for her to give him space. He can't _really_ fault her for this. She's just doing as she's told.

He's made _her_ life unbearably hard. She deserves the right to do the same.

* * *

About two hours later (maybe more, she's never really had a great sense of elapsed time), she hears faint calling that sounds a lot like her name.

_Good. They finally noticed she was gone, then._

She waits a few more minutes, and the calls get increasingly more and more frantic.

They also get closer.

She pulls the more pliant branches around her and makes herself as small as possible on her concealed stump. She wasn't letting them find her. She was planning on just walking out and acting like nothing was wrong after giving her husband a fantastic scare.

Of course, she wasn't so stupid as to believe that Petruchio actually cared for her in any way. Truth be told, she didn't even want him to. But after every other embarrassment he'd suffered tonight because of her, it would certainly make him look bad if, at the end of it, he'd managed to lose his own wife.

She hears the calls again, and recognizes them as her sister's, her husband's, and Lucentio's. Through a miniscule gap in the leaves, she sees three shadowy figures pass by. They don't even think to check within the enclave of leafy branches.

She waits another good twenty minutes. Soon, the desperate cries of those who claim to care about her well-being have drifted away, presumably having given up and decided to look for her elsewhere.

She uncurls herself, stretches, and begins trudging back.

* * *

As she exits the forest, her sister is nervously pacing in back of the house, Lucentio and Petruchio looking on defeatedly.

When Kate comes into view, the three of them look up in disbelief before Bianca runs toward her sister and throws her arms around her.

"Good heavens! We were so worried! I thought something had happened to you!"

_You were worried. Right. Nice thought, but no._

Kate awkwardly returns her sister's hug, if only for appearance's sake, before going up to her husband. He looks furious.

Before he has time to yell or do something even more drastic, Kate says, with all the sweetness she can muster, "I trust I gave you enough space tonight?"

Petruchio's jaw drops in an involuntary expression of incredulity. When he manages to collect his wits, he looks furious again, even more so than before. "Where were you?"

"In the forest. I thought it was the best chance I had of staying out of your way."

"We looked over every inch of that place."

"Well, I never heard or saw you." Yes, it's a lie, but it incites such a great reaction that Kate can't manage to feel bad about it in the least.

Petruchio's features twist into an expression of anger so exaggerated it's almost hilarious. Kate has to bite her lip to avoid laughing at the look on his face.

"We were worried sick about you," he responds, his voice dangerously low.

She schools her face into something resembling confusion, "I thought you _wanted_ me to keep out of the way."

"In a practical manner for a relatively short period of time."

"So now you're going to get mad at me for following orders?"

"_This,_" he gestures wildly in front of himself with his hand to indicate the forest, "is _not_ what I meant, and you know it."

Kate supposes she should be afraid. After all, she's long suspected this man is unstable. But she finds herself so blinded by her deep-seated hatred for him that there isn't room for her to feel anything else.

"I'm just trying to give you what you need. If you don't want me to do that, I won't."

This stops him. At once, all the fight drains out of him and when he looks at her, the fury and bestial fire is gone.

_Of course. He doesn't want to do anything that would possibly jeopardize their supposed controlling husband-obedient wife dynamic. Especially not after he worked so hard to establish it in the first place and his reputation got such a boost because of the outcome. _

_Seems she hit a sore spot._

"No, I…"

_And now he can't even form coherent sentences. Wow, I __**am**__ good._

Petruchio shakes his head and says, "Come, let's go to bed."

She can't resist one last irksome comment. "If it would make you feel better, I could sleep somewhere else-"

"Oh, no you don't," he replies forcefully. He grabs her by the wrist and drags her into the house. When they reach the stairs, he gently pushes her in front of him so she doesn't leave his sight.

As much as she would love a night where she _wouldn't_ have to share a bed with this awful man, she realizes that pushing the issue or trying to run away and sleep somewhere else would prove unsuccessful.

But as she situates herself on her side of the bed, she mentally files this event away in her memory as a job well done.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A few weeks later, one of the village men's house burns down after a particularly nasty experience with a shoddy fireplace. The men of Padua decide, supposedly out of the goodness of their hearts-though Kate suspects its just to increase their reputations-to help him rebuild his home. Petruchio, just to have something to do, and likely to have an excuse to attempt to display his masculinity, offers to lend his time and effort and stay in Padua every Monday through Friday until the project is done.

Kate thanks whatever deity exists that for the next two months, she won't have to see her husband for five days a week. It's almost as if the universe is finally being nice to her.

The evening before the building is supposed to commence, Kate, exhausted, is reading in bed as she waits for her husband to join her so she can go to sleep.

After what seems like an eternity, Petruchio enters the room and crawls in beside her.

However, as he begins fiercely kissing her and impatiently presses his thigh against hers, sleep seems to be the last thing on his mind.

They had, of course, slept together-in the less innocent sense of the word-before. But it was never a pleasant experience for Kate, mostly because her sexual partner in question was someone she absolutely despised. The only reason she allowed him access to her body was because it was expected of her and she didn't want to raise suspicion.

_But did she really have to do this __**now**__? She was exhausted._

Then she had an idea. One that would not only allow her to just go to sleep, but would also further her plan.

She gently brushed him off of her and turned her body so she was on her back staring up at the ceiling.

"Kate…" her husband admonishes, the warning more than evident in his voice.

She turns her face toward him and gives him a sweet smile before bringing a finger to his lips and whispering, "You have to be up early tomorrow. You have a big job to do. Save your strength. Get some sleep."

He merely responds by pulling her closer to him. "Darling, I won't get to see you until Saturday or Sunday."

She wriggles out of his grasp once more. "You need rest. I don't want you to tire yourself out tomorrow."

He begins nuzzling her neck, an action which creates strings of tension all over her body. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She covers his hand, which has migrated to her cheek, with hers. "It's my job to take care of you."

His eyes narrow. "It's also your job to do as I say."

She forces herself to stroke his face with her free hand before replying, "Not if I feel it's ultimately going to harm you. I know how you act when you haven't slept. It's not a state you should be in if you have to work tomorrow."

"I trust my body to take care of itself. You should as well."

"You aren't physically invincible. And you don't have to be. For my sake or for anyone else's."

The hand on her face's fingernails involuntarily dig into her cheek as he considers how to respond to this apparent affront to his masculinity.

"So you're saying I'm pretending to be something I'm not?" His eyes have that dangerous fire in them. The fire Kate experienced far too many times when he denied her food and sleep and genuine concern for her welfare in an attempt to break her in like one of his horses.

Because that's all she was to him, really. An animal. A pet with a wild spirit that had to be tamed.

Not wanting to have anything resembling a repeat of that horrible period of her life, Kate decides to back off a bit.

"That isn't what I meant at all! [Even thought it actually, totally was.] I just feel like you have so much pressure on you all the time to be all of these things. Husband, friend, impressive villager…You shouldn't feel like you're obligated to do everything. And without succumbing to normal human responses like exhaustion on top of that."

His grip on her face tightens. "I don't…'_succumb' _to anything." She can practically _see_ the venom in his words. "And I can certainly deal with all that is expected of me."

"You deserve a break every once in a while. Sleep."

"I _told_ you-I can do without it," he replies through gritted teeth.

"If you don't go to sleep right now, I'm going to get up out of this bed and camp out in the woods behind the house. I'm sure you remember how tough it was trying to find me the last time I did that."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, yes I would."

"I thought we had moved past your old ridiculous, shrewish nature."

_And there it was again. That word. Shrew. She hated that word._

_…And, if she was completely honest, she was kind of insulted. Instead of comparing her to a stubborn wild horse or a lion or some kind of animal that was actually impressive or intimidating, everyone chose to compare what they thought was her "old" self to a puny, mole-like creature with a weird nose. _

Knowing that if she kept this up, she'd blow her cover (and, consequently, her whole plot to give Petruchio a taste of his own medicine would be compromised) she opts to play the "overcome-with-love" card.

"We _have_ moved past it." She allows her face to twist into what she really hopes looks like an expression of tenderness. "But you need to know that there are few things I won't do for the happiness and well-being of my husband."

Something seems to dawn on him, and the dangerous fire in his eyes dissipates. "Oh. I see."

"You do?"

"Misguided though your actions may be, you are doing this because you really, honestly want to make sure I live the most fulfilling life I can."

"Yes."

_No_.

"Well, that makes you a perfect example of a true wife."

She fakes a smile.

"Nevertheless, I still think you're wrong. Actually, I know you are. But I suppose that's to be expected. You are just a woman, after all."

It takes everything she has not to pummel him into the ground.

She begins the process of untangling herself from him. She then pulls back the sheets, hauls herself out of bed, and moves toward the door.

"My threat to sleep in the woods still stands."

Her husband obviously wants to avoid dealing with more drama and trouble than he has to. And her hiding away in the woods for the night will certainly provide both. But, at the same time, she knows his ego won't let him surrender, especially not to a woman, and certainly not to the shrew he claims to have tamed.

But, ever the resourceful man, Petruchio allows a sly grin to creep onto his face before remarking, "You really do care that much, don't you?"

"Yes?" It comes out as a question because Kate isn't sure where this is going. And she becomes so preoccupied with trying to figure out what his objective is that she's stopped her walk toward the exit and turned around to face her husband instead.

"Why?"

"Because you're my husband."

He gets out of bed, walks over to her, and grips her shoulder, preventing her from moving any farther. "That's not an answer."

"Because you're a great man who deserves to have someone looking out for him."

"There are plenty of 'great' people in the world. But you don't seem to be nearly as protective of them. I've never seen this type of display around Hortensio or Grumio, or even your own sister."

"It's just different with you, I suppose."

"And why do you feel different about me?"

And then she realizes what he's trying to do.

_That bastard. He's trying to get her to say it, isn't he?_

Although they had been married for roughly a year and a half, Kate had never once told her husband she loved him. Using that word, so full of meaning and emotional gravity, in regard to this man, really in regard to any person at all, but especially him, was too much to stomach, even for her.

And her husband knew that she had always been a broken, misanthropic person, so he had never pushed her to say it. He had gotten what he wanted from her, so there was no use in trying to make her do something she was obviously not going to be emotionally ready for until after a long time had passed, if ever. Besides, he didn't want to do anything after breaking her in that would anger or upset her enough to cause a snap back to her old behavior. Making her use a word it was quite obvious she abhorred to convey a notion she abhorred even more might, her husband supposed, be enough to convince her to reject her recent personality changes.

"Kate?" Her husband brought her out of her ruminations, obviously waiting for a response.

She was caught. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to not say those words to him. Even if it was a lie, even if it was to further her own ends, she felt sick at the whole idea of letting herself say something so intimate and emotional to a _man_.

Especially _him._

But she knew that he wouldn't let her leave, and he definitely wouldn't let her come back to bed and get the sleep she so desperately wanted unless she said it.

She'd suffered so much emotional torment at the hands of this man. What was a little more, right?

So she inhales slowly and says, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "I'm doing all of this because I love you."

She feels an ache spread throughout her whole body at having said the three words in the entire English language she dreads the most.

The grin on Petruchio's face deepens into the smuggest countenance Kate has ever seen.

"I love you, too." It's filled with egotistical pride and a hint of condescension.

_He knows he's won_.

He loosens his grip on her shoulder and situates himself on the bed in a sleeping position.

Defeated, Kate climbs in after him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It's nice in the house without him. Kate revels in the time she now has to herself.

But she still feels a sense burning shame permeate her whole being. She was weak. She had allowed herself to say something she didn't believe in saying just to appease her husband.

And why? So she could go to sleep. So she could avoid further interaction with a simple man.

She was supposed to be stubborn. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

So she makes a promise to herself that the next time something like this happens, she _will not_ give in, whatever it takes.

* * *

Roughly a week later, her husband retires to bed looking exhausted. Kate comes into their room, takes a pillow and sheet from off the bed, and makes to leave.

"Where are you going?" Petruchio mumbles. The question is accompanied by a bleary-eyed expression that almost makes him look innocent.

_Almost_…

"You need rest," she replies simply, then adds, with affected bashfulness and a coy smile, "I'm afraid we wouldn't do much sleeping."

This response seems to satisfactorily feed his disgustingly large ego, as he smiles in a way that could almost be described as warm before closing his eyes and saying, "Very well."

Within seconds, he's gone.

_Well, that was a little bit too easy_, Kate thinks as she tiptoes out of the room and sets up a makeshift bed in the hallway. _He must really be exhausted if he's letting me do this without argument._

Nevertheless, she still counts it as a minor victory. Every extra second she doesn't have to spend in this man's presence is precious.

She has the most rejuvenating sleep she's had in over a year and a half.

* * *

Sadly, this respite doesn't last. A little over two months later, the house is finished, and her husband is back to being a permanent dweller in his estate.

Thankfully, Kate has a plan. And she's sure this one will work.

She pulls down a book on horses from the top shelf in the library and flips to the section on how to choose and size a saddle.

After an embarrassing display of lovelorn begging, Kate had managed to convince her sister and her sister's husband to give her some money so she could purchase a gift for Petruchio.

The gift in question being a new saddle. Made of the most uncomfortable material possible and in a completely wrong size.

Not that he would ever know that she made those "mistakes" on purpose.

But hopefully it would render painful one of his few simple pleasures in life, and make it nearly unbearable for him to travel since he rode his horse just about everywhere.

After double-checking the proper saddle size against a measurement sheet she stole from her husband's desk drawer (so she knows what _not_ to purchase) and deciding that wool is the least pleasant material to ask for (she had found an old letter in his desk-underneath the measurement sheet-from a friend who wrote he shared Petruchio's opinion that wool saddle seats are uncomfortable and unnecessarily scratchy), she goes to the closest shop and sends for a saddle that meets all her requirements.

The man behind the counter takes her money with a smile and says it should be ready for her in about two and a half weeks.

Kate can hardly wait to see the look on her husband's face.

* * *

When the saddle arrives, Kate throws out the old one and puts the new one on its hanger in the stable.

It's made of the coarsest wool Kate could get away with ordering; it's also gigantic.

Not only will the width cause him discomfort while riding by not fitting his body properly, he'll always feel like he's slipping backward off the horse due to his inability to situate himself in the seat properly. Not to mention the stirrups are far too big-he'll have a rather difficult task trying to keep his feet in them.

Oh, yes. This was going to be good.

He is currently gone on a three-day visit to an old university acquaintance who was passing through Padua.

But he'll be back tomorrow.

_Then he'll see_.

* * *

When Petruchio returns, Kate walks out to meet him, receiving a kiss with as much patience as she can realistically muster.

"I got something for you while you were away."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"And what did I do to deserve this?" _Of course. He won't just let it go. He needs his ego to be stroked, first._

"I am just so incredibly proud to have you as my husband. And I thought I should get you a small token to show you how taken I am by everything you are."

_Dear Lord, if she had to give him one more compliment, she was going to light something on fire._

"Well, now I'm curious."

Kate leads him to the stable and gives a grand gesture to the new saddle.

Her husband approaches the saddle and runs his hand over it. He visibly grimaces. He then takes it off the hanger and realizes that it's entirely too big.

In half a second, his expression changes from annoyance to absolute fury.

"Wool?" He all but explodes.

"Yes, is that not-"

"And it's _entirely _too big."

"It doesn't look like it…"

"Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it'll be riding on this thing!?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"What did you do with the old one?"

"I threw it out. You desperately needed a new one."

"No, I didn't. And even if I did, you should have let _me_ get it."

"So this is the thanks I get?"

"You don't deserve any thanks at all. What kind of idiot makes such an obvious mistake like that?"

She can't keep up this charade of bewildered demureness any longer. "Well, obviously one you married!"

His eyes flicker with that unsettling fire again and he moves toward her.

"You let _me_ do these kinds of things from now on. Clear?"

She gulps audibly. "As a bell."

"I am very disappointed in you."

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't change anything."

And he turns around on his heel and storms off.

Once he's out of earshot, Kate begins laughing. The first real, honest, mirthful laugh she's had in probably her entire life.

* * *

That evening, her husband glares at her all through dinner. He scoots as far away from her on their shared bed when they lie down to go to sleep. Kate knows he has to go to the tailor tomorrow to pick something up, and he'll need to use his horse to get there.

He avoids her all morning.

As he reluctantly places the new saddle on his horse and prepares to leave, Kate positions herself among some bushes near the stable to covertly observe his departure.

As the horse trots away, she sees Petruchio's face contort into an expression of mild pain every few seconds. She also sees him scrabbling furiously in an attempt to stay on the horse.

This sight of this man having such an obvious lack of control is so humorous, even the servants who are seeing him off are giggling under their breath.

Satisfied, Kate creeps out from the bushes and returns to the house.

* * *

That evening, just before bed, Petruchio walks past her into their room without so much as a glance.

Once again, Kate grabs a pillow and sheet from the bed and makes for the door.

"Kate," her husband growls.

"It's obvious you're mad at me. And it's obvious that you need space. For the next few weeks, I'm going to sleep downstairs in the siting room."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"I have wronged you. I have failed in my duties as a wife. I deserve to be punished. Denying myself the privilege of sleeping next to you is the best way I can think of to do that."

Well, Petruchio didn't really feel like he could argue with that.

"Fine," he huffs. "But if you get uncomfortable, don't you dare try to come back up here."

"I won't."

_Nothing on Earth or Heaven could make her do that._

Oddly enough, the chair in the sitting room feels much more comfortable than her half of the bed ever did.

* * *

Approximately a week and a half later, Kate offers to go to the market to do the shopping, eager for an excuse to leave the house.

When she gets there, she hears snatches of conversation that confirm she has accomplished what she intended with the whole saddle business.

"…Yeah, he looks ridiculous, right? I heard that saddle was a gift from his wife. Some wife…"

"…What kind of man lets his wife take charge of things like that? If I were Petruchio, I'd give that Kate a piece of my mind…"

"…That Petruchio is obviously completely at the mercy of that wife of his…"

She then passes a group of women gossiping.

"So, Petruchio…he's pretty mad about the whole thing, yeah?"

"Totally furious."

"Yeah, I heard the two of them don't even sleep in the same bed anymore!"

This is met with gasps of horror from the other girls in the group.

_Good. News of their separate sleeping arrangements has gotten out. Just like she hoped the first night she left._

Because nothing was more embarrassing than having the entire village know that your own spouse couldn't even spend eight hours-unconscious-in the same room as you.

When she gets back, it's nearly time for dinner. She sits across the table from her husband, who still opts to give her withering looks when he's not ignoring her presence completely.

_Fine by her_.

* * *

Another two weeks pass. Kate is still sleeping in the sitting room, and Petruchio, it seems, is still not over the whole saddle debacle. He recently ordered a new one, but it won't be in for at least another week.

Village gossip regarding their spat has also reached epic proportions.

But all good things must, as they say, come to an end.

Because on this particular day, Petruchio was publicly shamed by another male villager in the middle of a café.

The man derided him, his family, and then fed him a list of reasons why he wasn't fit to be called a true man, anymore.

The biggest one, of course, was not even being able to get a grip on his wife, even after she had modified her behavior to please him.

So when Petruchio returns home, he's decided he's had enough.

He barges into the sitting room, his eyes blazing.

"You _will_ sleep in our room tonight." His words are like miniature strikes of lightening in their swift, deadly attacks.

"I hardly think I've done my penance."

"IT'S NOT OPTIONAL!" He roars.

"But you're obviously still mad at me."

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT US!?"

"There's no need to shout."

"YES THERE IS. I GOT PUBLICLY HUMILIATED TODAY. BECAUSE OF _YOU_!"

"What did_ I_ do?"

"Some random guy verbally assaulted me in the middle of my favorite café, saying that I'm a disgrace to the male gender because I can't teach my wife to not be an idiot. And that I'm pathetic because my own wife won't even sleep next to me anymore. AND EVERYONE ELSE AGREED AND STARTED LAUGHING AND JOINING IN!"

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"SORRY ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!"

"I'm just trying to be a good wife! I'm trying to do what I think is best for _you_. To make everything I do solely about your happiness. Isn't that the whole point of marriage?"

"My happiness is contingent on your working to present yourself and your relationship to me as respectable. And let me say, you have been doing a _terrible_ job of that."

"Okay! And sleeping away from you is my way of punishing myself for that. I told you that!"

He takes a slow, deliberate, step towards her. This action is followed by a loud "crack!" that reverberates through the room as his hand connects with her cheek.

"And refusing to sleep next to me is ruining my status and making me unhappy! How can you not see that, you miserable, infernal woman?!"

He slaps her again, this time even harder than before.

Kate steels herself not to cry at the pain. She takes another look at his eyes, now a blinding inferno, and realizes that, for the first time, she is really, truly scared of him.

But she made a promise to herself to not back down. He'd have to subdue her by force to get what he wanted this time.

"Considering you showed up to _our_ wedding in a ridiculous get-up and incurred the judgment of a greater part of the village by agreeing to marry me in the first place, I would have thought that you didn't _care_ what they all thought!"

"This is _nothing_ like that. These people aren't attacking my decisions or my clothing. They're attacking my ability to exercise control over my life. They are attacking me as a person."

Something in his face shifts, and the fire in his eyes becomes steel. "But I _do_ have control. I have control over _you_."

Kate involuntarily takes a step backward. For a brief, terrifying second, she thinks he might actually try to kill her.

He takes two strides toward her, hoists her over his shoulder, and carries her upstairs instead.

He brings her to their room, throws her down on the bed, and begins yanking off her skirts and unbuttoning her dress.

"Yes, I control you. Never forget that."

Every nerve in her body is begging her to find a way out of this. Unsure of what else she can do, Kate decides to be honest.

"Can we please not do this now?" Her voice is pleading and she feels tears form at the corners of her eyes.

His eyes lock onto hers and he slowly, precisely unbuttons the last two buttons on her dress and pushes it off her shoulders.

"I think you already know the answer to that question."

She begins thrashing and screaming, anything she can do to get him off of her.

But he's too strong. He holds her down so tightly and handles her body so roughly she's positive she'll have bruises in the places where his hands have been.

She feels exposed. She feels like some sacred rule has just been broken. She feels like a prisoner in her own room.

"PLEASE STOP. YOU'RE HURTING ME!" She begs, the tears fully-formed in her eyes now.

He doesn't register her pain at all. He merely replies with, "I control you."

Seconds later, everything goes red.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: This ****_is_**** a crossover, I promise. The Doctor will be appearing soon!**

When…_it_…is over and Kate's vision clears, she feels dirty.

She feels like it's the kind of uncleanliness she'll never be able to wash off of her body.

She feels disgusting. And she feels like some key part of her has just been ripped apart.

But, most of all, she feels stripped. Stripped of control and stripped of her dignity.

Empty.

For the first time since she was a child, she feels like crying.

So she does. She can't even bother to worry about the fact that her husband is right next to her, observing all of this.

Everything hurts.

She hated him.

She hated her father for approving this marriage.

She hated herself for letting this happen.

She hated the villagers for never bothering to consider that maybe she had feelings, too.

She hated men.

She hated everyone.

* * *

The following morning, Kate awoke early and, as quiet as humanly possible, eased herself out of bed and made her way toward the sitting room so she could think.

She felt like every part of her body, inside and out, had been violated.

But part of her didn't understand why.

Sex was a part of marriage. In the Catholic Church, the validity of a marriage was actually dependent on whether or not the act in question took place.

In marrying him, she had given him consent to have a sexual relationship with her, hadn't she?

Except she had never really consented to marrying him.

_But she could have fought back harder. She could have run away. She could have issued an ultimatum. She could have tried to find a way to prevent the marriage from taking place outside of fiercely protesting._

But nothing would have worked.

_She still could have tried_.

She _did_ try. She wasn't exactly shy about her feelings. It's not like she sat back and did absolutely nothing.

_Couldn't she have done more?_

At the time, she did all she could think of doing.

_Okay, so if she never truly consented to marriage, did she ever actually consent to sex?_

_Of course not._

Except she _had _consented to sex. Even if the idea didn't particularly sound remotely pleasant to her, she specifically gave him permission all of the previous times they had slept together.

_But not this time_.

Did that matter? She had given consent before. It was more than reasonable that her husband should expect consent in future circumstances. Right?

_Says who?_

…That was a good question. But she still wasn't completely sure if what she was feeling was justified.

_You __**are**__ a human being. Don't your feelings count for something?_

But he was her husband. Didn't that give him the right to do to her…what he did? Did _she_ really have the right to say "no" to him?

_You never thought he had the right to humiliate you or deny you food or keep you from sleeping. You never once thought his abuse was justified. How is this any different?_

Because this is what people _did_. All married people. Normal people.

_Yes. But nothing about this marriage was never normal. And you aren't normal. He's certainly not normal. "Normal" standards can't apply in this case._

Well, that was true.

_Besides, you expressed your distress regarding the situation. You explicitly asked him to stop. You're a human being. You deserve to have people treat you with respect. In refusing to listen to you and stop doing something that was obviously hurting you-both internally and externally-he denied you that respect._

Also true.

_So maybe it's not a question of marital "rights." Maybe it's a question of personal, __**moral**__ rights instead._

Then it shouldn't matter whether he was her husband or not. No one had the right to force her to do something she didn't want to do. No one had the right to take away the dignity she was due as a person.

And regardless of whether or not she had consented in the past, what mattered is that she hadn't consented last night.

Consenting once was not consenting forever.

She was more than justified in feeling this.

And she was certainly more than justified at being disgusted with him.

With this realization, she decided that she had to find a way to get out of here. She didn't know how, she just knew she absolutely couldn't live out the rest of her life in this house in this town with this man.

* * *

The first thing she does after her husband gets up is strip the sheets off the bed and wash them.

Then she washes her clothes.

Then she takes a bath.

It's still not enough.

She decides to go on a walk. Anything to get her away from this house.

She walks probably five miles out before deciding to turn back.

Five miles is too close. Being a _thousand_ miles away would still be too close.

When she returns, it's evening and she hasn't had anything to eat all day. But then, it's not like she'd had much of an appetite, anyway.

She eats in silence, constantly aware of the eyes of the man who calls himself her husband trained on her.

To him, it's just another normal night.

But not to her.

She isn't sure she can ever experience a "normal" night again.

* * *

It occurs to her that perhaps she should tell someone.

Then she realizes how ridiculous that is.

She's a woman. No one is going to take her side.

Besides, no one would see anything wrong with a man having sex with his wife, regardless of whether or not the wife gave her consent. No one would believe that it was possible for someone to be sexually taken advantage of by one's spouse.

It's also possible that no one would even believe her.

So hoping for justice is certainly out of the question.

She could just leave. Pack up her few belongings and run off in the middle of the night when everyone in the house is fast asleep.

But she had no money or place to go. There wasn't much a lone woman, especially one who was still bound in marriage to someone else, could do. (And no matter where she went or what new identity she tried to carve out for herself, someone _would _find out about her past. Those things always tended to come out some way or another.) In the eyes of society, she wasn't worth a whole heck of a lot without a man in her life.

Maybe she could join a convent. It didn't sound like something she'd particularly enjoy-with all of the rules and praying constantly to a deity who was always referred to with masculine pronouns-but it had to be better than here. It would provide a life of relative peace.

And at least she'd be living among people who actually cared about something other than themselves.

It couldn't be anywhere even remotely close to here, though. She had to make sure she got as far away as she could to diminish the possibility of someone being able to find and retrieve her.

So she packs up her two favorite books, several sets of clothes, an old sheet, and as much food as she can realistically get away with stealing from the kitchen, and stuffs it all in a large basket. She also nicks some money Petruchio has stashed in a box hidden away in his study for good measure.

Finally feeling a small degree of control over her life, she plans to leave that night.


End file.
